


King of Doves and Crows

by shadowchan93



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Avian Au, Emotional Abuse, Fantasy AU, M/M, Thiefshipping, as always daddy Ishtar is a dick, but don't worry Bakura gets him outta there, open end, wasted potential for a good plot lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 17:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20439923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowchan93/pseuds/shadowchan93
Summary: The king keeps his son locked away from the public, but a certain thief helps the prince to spread his wings and fly into freedom. However, the prince has to realize that not everything in the country that he's supposed to rule one day is perfect.





	King of Doves and Crows

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone,  
I've had this AU in my mind for quite a while and I think it actually has a lot of potential to be turned into a quite big story. However, I know I don't have the capacities to write a big story, so I'm throwing this at you in the hopes that someone else might pick it up and do something with it!  
This story is an abridged version of the AU that I had in mind and sometimes things are only vaguely described because I only had an aesthetic for the scene in my head, but not details. For the same reason there are also a lot of smaller time jumps. I hope it all makes sense, if it doesn't let me know.  
Also, I should mention that this is not beta'ed at all, so feel free to point out typos or grammatical errors. I've literally slammed this all together within the last two days. I also apologize if I repeat certain things all over again or if the characters seem a bit OOC.

** **

**King of Doves and Crows**

Malik stood close to the ledge, admiring his father’s kingdom from far above. Prosperous green land stretched out to the horizon, rich in fruits and crops. The city right below Malik was full with life as many people spread their wings after a day of work and flew home. Tall sandstone buildings rose into the air, giving shelter to anyone who lived there.

Malik imagined the buildings down there to be decorated just as beautifully as his own tower, having artistic ornaments all over them as it was custom to their kind of people. Though, he’d never seen the town, never had he even left his tower. The blond’s expression grew gloomy.

He was the prince, so shouldn’t he see the kingdom that he was supposed to rule at least once? His wings twitched behind him and he stretched them out before closing them again. If he were someone different, he could’ve just jumped off the ledge and flown down. Everyone could, just not him. Malik, he’d fall to his death. He’d been unable to fly ever since he could remember. The healers claimed that it was some kind of birth defect that caused his feathers to grow too short to carry his weight properly.

The infrastructure of the whole kingdom was set up for avians. Without functional wings, Malik wouldn’t have any means for transportation. His father had been concerned for his well-being, saying that it’d be too dangerous for the heir of the throne to go down there and mingle with the common folk. Malik snorted. Sometimes he wondered if that was the real reason or if his father was ashamed to show his crippled son to the public. Why else would he have set up Malik’s quarters in the highest tower of the town, so high that it was above the clouds most of the time? Malik hated his tower. Neither the beautiful gardens surrounding the housing area, nor the exquisite interior of his quarters could convince Malik otherwise. Like a golden cage it was meant to protect him, while making him its prisoner. And the exit was right there at the ledge and yet, Malik was unable to use it.

The prince grimaced, now frustrated by looking downwards and seeing what he could never have and never see up close.

“Don’t go too close to the ledge or you’ll fall.” His guardian spoke from behind. Rishid’s face carried a soft expression. Unlike Malik, his guardian wasn’t solely confined to the quarters on top of the tower. He was like a messenger between Malik and the rest of the world and over the years he’d grown to be something akin to a brother to him. He was the one Malik would talk to most, though he was also the one who would need to bear Malik’s moody days.

Malik snorted and turned sharply on his heel to stride past Rishid.

Rishid sighed as he followed him. “It’s dinner time in an hour. How about you go sit inside and let the servants groom your wings a bit to calm down?”

“NO!” Malik yelled at him. Aside from Rishid and sometimes his sister Isis, the servants were the only people he ever met. However, he never enjoyed the servants’ company much. His father probably thought he’d do his son a favour by sending a bunch of pretty girls to tend to him, but honestly they just bored Malik. All the gossip and chitchat about people he didn’t even know was tiring and of no interest to him. “I don’t want to be groomed! I don’t want to be stuck here! I want to do things! To move! To get dirty down in the streets! I want to see things down there!”

“I’m afraid I cannot fulfil that wish. How about we practice your swordsmanship instead?” Rishid suggested, the best thing he could do for the moment. Malik knew Rishid couldn’t take Malik down to the city without risking his own head. And while training, Malik could at least let off some steam. Besides, who knew, maybe if Malik could prove to his father that he was able to fend for himself, the old man would finally allow him to see the world.

“Fine. I’ll go get the swords.” Malik trotted through the gardens to the house.

\--

Unable to fall asleep just yet, Malik sat on some cushions in the beautiful stone pavilion that connected to his bedroom. His head was propped on his hands that rested atop of the low balustrade surrounding the pavilion. Malik watched the stars above until a big storm cloud blocked his view. The wind picked up and whipped strands of blond hair around Malik’s face. The winds were always strong up here. When the first raindrops hit the white stone of the balustrade sill, Malik gathered his things and went back inside. He knew better than to stay out during a storm. Years ago when he had still been a kid, he’d almost been blown away. He would’ve fallen into his death if Rishid hadn’t saved him.

Malik made sure to close all windows behind him before he went to bed. The sound of rain droplets hitting the glass panels was soothing and helped him relax. Maybe it would’ve also helped him to fall asleep if it wasn’t for the loud thunder that boomed around the tower only seconds after the rain had started. When the first lightning crashed into the lightning rod of the tower, Malik knew he wouldn’t get much sleep that night.

Another lightning illuminated the sky and Malik shot up in his bed when a black silhouette passed by his window and crashed in the garden with a loud screech.

Wide-eyed, Malik stared at the window, wondering if he had hallucinated in his half-asleep state or if it had really happened. Carefully he walked over to the windows again and peeked outside. But yes, there it was, a shadow that moved in the night, hunched over on the ground between some bushes. Another painful screech followed. Malik couldn’t recognize who it was, but they made their way towards the garden entrance of the pavilion.

Malik narrowed his eyes at the person. His servants and Rishid would usually leave him alone for the night and retreat to their own quarters further below in the city. It was more than unlikely that any of them would come up to the prince’s quarters, especially in such bad weather conditions. Excitement overcame Malik. Maybe this would be the first time he’d have the chance to talk to anyone else who wasn’t his family or servants. He lit up a small lantern and opened the door that led outside.

“Who are you?” Malik straightened up and opened his wings, trying to seem bigger than he actually was to intimidate the stranger. Maybe he should’ve grabbed his sword before leaving his room…

The stranger swayed on his feet and leaned heavily against one of the stone pillars for support. He spat out some blood. “Heh, I could ask you the same, but alas, I don’t care enough. If you value your life, you better leave me alone, little sparrow.”

Malik’s feathers fluffed up in anger. “I’m a hawk type, not a sparrow. Watch your tongue, dirty crow.” He raised his lantern over his head to get a better view. His visitor was severely hurt. Dark bruises covered his face. “Besides, I don’t think you’re in the condition to threaten me.”

“Ha! You’re a fool to think I’m a crow.” The stranger coughed and dark blood splattered onto the pale skin of his arm. “And you’re an even bigger fool to think I couldn’t take you on right now.” He drew a silver blade from his belt.

Malik eyed the dagger. “I’m not interested in fighting or killing you. I wouldn’t gain anything from it.”

The stranger narrowed his eyes on Malik – or at least as good as his swollen face allowed him to. “I see.” And with that he collapsed on the cold floor.

Malik gasped and took a few steps forward. He kicked the dagger out of reach in case his visitor would wake up again and get stupid ideas. But as it appeared, he was out cold. The stranger’s breathing came ragged and upon closer inspection, Malik saw the remnants of arrow shafts sticking out of his back and wings.

Malik poked him with his foot, but he wouldn’t move. “Are you dying?”

Panic overcame Malik. He couldn’t just leave him there to die, could he? He shook him again and when he still wouldn’t wake up, Malik started to drag him into the house and into the bathroom connected to his bedroom. He lit up all lanterns and candles to get as much light into the room as possible.

Malik walked up and down, unsure what to do. He was no healer and he had no idea how to handle such things, let alone the fact that he didn’t have any supplies. In the end, he decided to wash the wounds and remove the arrows. Blood spurted out from the open wounds, sticking to the black feathers of the stranger’s wings and giving them an eerie glisten. Malik bit his lip. Probably pulling the arrows out just like that hadn’t been such a great idea. In his search for something to still the bleeding, Malik took some old bedsheets from his wardrobe and tore them into makeshift bandages. When he was done patching the other up, he stood, stemmed his hands on his hips and looked at his work. He’d done a rather poor job and roses of red had already formed on the bandages. But they didn’t grow any bigger, so Malik assumed they’d done their job anyways and stopped the bleeding for now.

Disgusted, Malik stared down at his stained hands and robes and the bloody trail that lead from the pavilion to the bathroom. He’d have to get rid of the traces before the first servants arrived in the morning. Malik grabbed a bucket and filled it with water. He splashed it over the pavilion floor to wash the blood into the garden. It still rained heavily, so no one would question the pavilion being wet. He couldn’t just do the same with his bedroom and bathroom and so he spent the later part of the night tediously scrubbing the floor. He washed himself up as well and hid his dirtied robes underneath the bed.

Once he was done, he went back to the bathroom to check up on the stranger. Until now he still hadn’t woken up. Malik crouched down next to him to take a closer look.

The stranger’s appearance was quite unique. His wing colour didn’t match his hair colour at all as it was usually the case. The black wings looked just as ragged from the most recent fight as his simple black clothes. His mop of long, grey hair was still wet and clung to the sides of his face. His skin was as pale, safe for the bruises that covered him. Malik had never seen someone so pale before, but he’d heard about folks in the North with skin like milk, so maybe that was where he was from. Though, Malik had also heard stories of the crows from the North. Horrible stories, that they were liars and murderers who would fall into villages and rob them of everything they had. Judging from the stranger’s combat wounds that might even be true.

The first birds started to greet the morning and Malik bit his lip. The servants could appear any moment now. They’d call the guards for sure if they spotted the stranger here.

Malik splashed some water into the other’s face and patted his cheek. He was relieved when he heard a groan. At least he was still alive then. “I’ll need to move you somewhere else where no one can find you until you recover. Can you at least try to walk?”

In the end it was more dragging than walking anyways, but Malik managed to hide him in his walk-in wardrobe behind some wooden chests. Panting, Malik set him down. “I’m sorry it’s gonna be dark, but no one ever comes in here.”

The stranger let out a scratchy hoarse laugh. “I am the darkness. It’s comforting.”

“Suit yourself then.” Malik raised an eyebrow. “Before you pass out, what should I call you?”

“Bakura’s fine for now.”

“Good. My name’s Malik.” Though, he had no idea if the other had still understood him before passing out.

Malik was nervous for the rest of day, afraid that anyone might find out about his little secret. 

\--

Bakura’s recovery went fast. By evening of the first day, he had already regained consciousness. Malik offered him to check on his wounds, but he just snarled at him like the wounded animal that he was. He wasn’t very talkative, probably still hurting too much to do so. However, he wolfed down the bread and fruits that Malik offered him to eat.

By the evening of the second day, he had already started to move around again. His movements were still slow and careful, but his eyes radiated a certain fire that Malik had to admire. He snatched some more food from the table and leaned against one of the stone pillars to eat, still too wary to let his guard down and sit.

“Those were mine.” Malik commented. He didn’t really mind Bakura eating them, but he could’ve at least asked.

“Well, now they’re not anymore.” Bakura said before taking a bite.

Malik watched him for a moment, accessing whether he’d get some information out of him or not. “You were flying up quite high in the sky when you reached my tower. You’re not from around here, are you? Otherwise you’d know it’s illegal to fly in these altitudes around the city, at least without a royal decree.”

Bakura licked the pear juice of his fingers before he continued with the apple. “Do I look like I care? I was trying to save my ass from the bunch of guards on my heels, what does it matter if I broke yet another stupid law?”

Malik had already guessed he was a criminal of some sort. That was not surprising. Nevertheless the prince’s interest was caught. “What did you do to make them follow you? The guards I mean.”

Bakura arched his eyebrow. “I’m a liar and a thief, are you sure you want to believe a word I say?” He asked playfully.

Malik shrugged and offered a cup of wine to his companion. “I’d love to hear a little story in exchange for my hospitality. It gets boring up here, you know.”

Bakura greedily accepted the wine. “Well, if you put it like that.”

His stories sounded too fantastic and too adventurous to be true. Malik was sure he made them all up on the spot, but still he couldn’t help but feel jealous at all the things the other had gotten to see already.

As it turned out, Bakura was indeed one of the crows that Malik had heard so much about. Rebellious tribes from the Northern country who’d trespass into the Southern and Eastern kingdoms and cause trouble to the royal forces. Bakura had been on a secret mission for them and he had tried to invade the royal palace of the Ishtar family shortly before the guards had caught him. He’d escaped the prisons easily. Malik had never seen anyone else being so full of himself as Bakura was when he was pretty much bragging about his lock picking and thieving skills.

“Oh, really?” Malik raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Then tell me, why are you so beaten up if you are so skilled, oh great thief?”

Bakura tore into another piece of bread that he had stolen for himself earlier. He watched Malik for a brief moment. “You know, if it wasn’t for my know-how, I’d already be long dead by now. And a few bruises are a small price I’m willing to pay to live.”

Malik was taken a bit aback by Bakura’s sudden seriousness. He just nodded in response. That had certainly given him food for thought.

During the third day, their cover was almost blown as one of the maids intended to sort the freshly washed garments into the wardrobe. Malik had come too late to stop her and to his surprise they found the wardrobe seemingly empty. Bakura had still been there in the morning. There was no way he could’ve made it past them all unnoticed.

“Bakura?” Malik called out in the evening. Some rustling was heard from the wardrobe, so he went to check there. Amazed he watched as Bakura emerged from the shadows and opened his wings that he had folded like a cocoon around himself. He hadn’t lied about his illusion skills indeed. He’d managed to become almost invisible. “Wow, I almost thought you had already left. How’d you do that?”

Bakura gave him a cocky grin. “I told you I am the darkness.”

“Yeah, sure.” Malik rolled his eyes and motioned for his new friend to get out of his hiding spot. “I’ve left something for you to eat on the table.”

Bakura inspected the plate filled with food and scrunched up his nose. “Don’t you have any real food for once?”

Malik huffed. “This is perfectly fine and healthy. It’s good fruits and vegetables.”

Bakura rolled his eyes. “Exactly. Where’s the meat? Gosh, if I wasn’t feeling so shitty, I’d go and catch one of those to eat.” He nodded towards the birds in the gardens.

“You eat birds?” Malik almost dropped the cup of wine that he had just filled up for himself, a horrified expression showing on his face. “But they’re kin!”

Bakura let out a hoarse laughter. “You learn to eat anything when you’re desperate enough, sunshine. You really haven’t gotten out of your golden cage at all, have you?”

Malik pouted. “How’d you know?”

Bakura blew some air out of his nose. “I recognize clipped wings when I see them.”

Malik tilted his head in confusion. “Hu? What do you mean?”

Bakura’s eyes went wide for a moment when he realized Malik had no idea what he was talking about. He cleared his throat and moved to the garden. “I feel like I’ve overstayed my welcome here.”

“What?” Malik’s voice pitched up. “No, I mean, you should stay. I’m glad to have someone else to talk to.”

“Listen up, brat, I’m neither your personal entertainer nor your pet that you can keep at your will.” Bakura suddenly snarled at him. “I’m hunted by the guards, so I better be on the move. Staying at the same place for too long could cost me my head. Besides, I guess you have your own things to sort out as well now.”

Malik huffed and crossed his arms, low-key offended by Bakura’s harsh words. Was it so wrong that Malik wanted a bit more company? “Your wounds by far haven’t healed enough, the wings are ragged and I doubt you can even see clearly through those swollen eyes. But fine. If you wanna leave, you’re free to do so. Let’s see how far you’ll get with those torn up wings of yours.”

“Further than you do with yours for sure.” Bakura retorted back.

Stark lilac eyes narrowed on Bakura as Malik glared at him. He uncrossed his arms and his hands curled into fists at his side. “You’re right. You overstayed your welcome. Get lost.”

\--

Malik sat on the cushions in the pavilion again. He nibbled on some grapes as his maids groomed the back of his wings that he couldn’t reach on his own. Their soft hands ran through his feathers, but while he had often found it to be a soothing feeling before, for some reason it put him on edge now. Bakura’s words wouldn’t leave his mind anymore. _I recognize clipped wings when I see them_.

“Ne, tell me. What are clipped wings?” Malik popped another grape into his mouth.

Immediately he could feel the air around them change, growing colder and more hostile. The maids had frozen mid-movement. One of them forced a smile, but her voice shook as she spoke. “I do not know of what you speak, my prince.”

“You’re lying.”

\--

Malik was boiling inside, boiling. How dare they? How fucking DARE THEY?

“Master Malik.” Rishid’s voice came from the doorway. He must’ve heard about Malik’s earlier outburst from the maids.

Malik spun around, his eyes piercing his guardian. “You knew. _You knew_ all this time and you just let it happen.” His voice was like acid as he spat out the words.

“You’ve thrown a plate at the maids earlier. I don’t think that’s appropriate behaviour for a-“

Malik smashed another vase on the floor. “DON’T YOU DARE TO IGNORE WHAT I JUST SAID!” He roared at the other. “You all fucking _knew_ they were cutting my feathers without my knowledge so I couldn’t fly and you all fucking _helped_ them making me believe I was crippled my whole life!” His voice broke at the end and he had to gulp hard to hold back some tears. “Why? WHY?”

Rishid cast his eyes down and sighed. “Calm down. Sit and let us talk.”

“No.” Malik straightened up and stood tall. “No. I’m done following orders. I’m done being the nice heir everyone wants me to be. And most of all, I am not letting ANYONE touch my wings anymore.”

“Master Malik, you’re overreacting, I’m sure that if we-“

“I am your prince and these are my commands.” Malik hissed. “Do you intend to go against them?”

\--

The atmosphere had become icy up in Malik’s tower. The servants would come over for the bare necessities, but otherwise no soul was to be seen. Some of them had approached him, but he had defended himself so fiercely that no one dared to get close to him anymore. Rishid had wanted to talk to him a bunch of times as well, but Malik had turned him down whenever he tried.

Malik felt fooled and used. Who did they think they were? As far as he had gathered from bits and pieces of conversations until now, it had been a political choice to prevent him from seeing the outside world. His father and the other higher ups had wanted an heir who was easy to manipulate, a puppet whom they could steer by feeding him wrong information and twisting his own judgement. And this was easiest if the puppet had never seen the outside world and had to take his advisor’s word for gold. Malik had been too blind to notice and he had believed every word he’d been told without questioning, playing right into their scheme.

All that time, he had never paid any attention to the servants when they groomed his wings. As far as he could remember back, his feathers had always been short. It had been so normal to him that he didn’t even think about the possibility that anyone had manipulated them. What hurt the most was that his sister and his guardian, those people whom he had considered his closest family, had known about it and never told him a word. That stung. That really stung and Malik had no idea if he could forgive them for that. They claimed it had been for his best, but in his bitter state, Malik wasn’t so sure if he wanted to believe them.

A few weeks later moult started and Malik held one of his fallen feathers in front of his face. It was a clear cut at the tip. He must’ve been stupid not to realize sooner. All it would’ve taken was a look into the mirror. That’s when he noticed there _were_ no full body mirrors within the housing complex. Malik let out a frustrated scream.

As the moult season proceeded and more time passed, Malik noticed that the newly grown feathers were longer than they had ever been before. He unfolded his wings and spread them to their full size for the first time in his life. He started to move them, flapping them carefully. Immediately he noticed the difference.

\--

Of course Malik’s rebellion didn’t go unnoticed. Malik shielded his eyes against the blazing sun as he watched three figures land on the platform. He gulped hard against the lump in his throat, unsure about what to tell his strict father.

In the end, he didn’t dare to oppose his father openly. It wouldn’t be wise to speak against the current king. He was an intimidating man with too much power.

The king stood tall in front of him and stared down at him through icy eyes. “I heard you want to fly and see the world, son.”

Malik felt his mouth run dry. He cast his eyes down and nodded before he remembered how important manners were to his father. “Yes, my Lord.”

“Then show me your skills and maybe I’ll allow you.” His father said coldly, no emotion to be heard from his voice. 

Malik grit his teeth. Of course. It was just like his father to humiliate him in order to subdue him and Malik hated that it worked. “I don’t know how.”

The guard to the king’s left snickered, but he stopped immediately when the king shot him a glare.

“I guess that issue is settled then.” His father stated. “You’re not going to fly and you’re not going to leave the tower. You’re going to stay here until I say otherwise.” He was already walking towards the ledge again.

“Well, someone could teach me.” Malik said, this time louder and with more confidence. Just because he didn’t know how things worked didn’t need to mean he was not capable to do it.

The king stopped and spoke without turning back to him. “Malik, I am warning you. Don’t push my patience too much. I’ve expressed my opinion on that matter and you are not in the position to argue with me, your king.” With that he leaped off into the air. His two guards followed.

Malik growled and cursed under his breath when they were gone. “I hate him, gods, I hate him.”

“Malik, you’ve heard your father. Come back inside.” Rishid tried to persuade him.

Malik turned to him sharply. “You’re not going to teach me how to fly, are you?” Why did he even ask? He already knew that Rishid wouldn’t go against his father’s orders. The other’s silence just confirmed it. “Pah. Just watch. One day I’ll just fly off this tower and never return.”

From that day onwards, he practiced day in and out. It was hard to become airborne, so he started by jumping off elevated places like the roof of his pavilion to practice gliding and the landings. He had lost count of the amount of times that he crashed and fell flat on his face. His hands and knees were covered in scratches, but he knew he’d make it eventually.

\--

“You’re supposed to land on your feet, not on your face, idiot.” Crackling came from atop the roof.

“What the-“ Malik pushed himself back on his feet and dusted off his pants. He looked upside and spotted a person reclining on the roof. Black wings, white hair. “Bakura?” He asked as he tilted his head. Malik hadn’t really thought he’d ever see him again. And if it wasn’t for his unique coloration, Malik probably wouldn’t have recognized him without the bruises either.

“As I live and breathe.” Bakura pushed himself off the roof and landed in the gardens – a lot more gracefully than the last time he’d crashed in Malik’s place. His wounds had all healed by now and without swollen eyes he actually didn’t even look that bad, quite the contrary. His face was pretty handsome.

“At least a lot more alive than the last time I saw you.” Malik retorted back. “What gives me the pleasure of your visit, thief? The guards aren’t after you again, are they?”

“Pffth, they’re always after me. And let me just say I was curious to see what has become of you.” He rounded Malik with deliberately slow steps. “I see you’ve grown out your feathers.”

“I’m feeling flattered.” Malik mocked. “But that’s not the real reason you’re here. Now what is it that you want?”

Bakura crossed his arms and stared at Malik expectantly. “You still have something of mine and I want it back.”

Malik looked at him confused, having no idea what he meant.

Bakura noticed the blond’s expression and deadpanned. “Dude, you still have my dagger. Where the fuck is it? I need it back.”

“Ooooh.” It clicked in Malik’s mind and a guilty smile appeared on his face. “I uh guess I just kicked it away before I took you inside. Actually I’ve got no idea where it landed. Should still be around there somewhere.”

“YOU WHAT!” Bakura screeched. “Oh no no no.” He ran over to the pavilion and started to search the bushes around it all the while complaining how Malik could just toss his most prized possession into the dirt and leave it there to rot.

Malik chuckled and followed.

\--

“Hey, hey, sparrow, if you’re tired of falling around, how about you try to actually move your wings?”

“What do you think I’m trying to do?!”

“Well, not moving your wings obviously. I’d fall on my face as well if I just kept them in static speed position.”

“I’m not static! What the hell are you talking about?!”

“Oh, look at me, I’m the prince and I ate a broomstick.” Bakura stiffened his arms and legs and waddled around on the roof all the while grinning down at Malik who was sitting in the dirt. He relaxed again and flexed his wings. “Tilt your wings more, so they can catch the wind better. You wanna reduce your speed before you set foot on the ground or else you’ll just fall again.”

Malik’s face turned red from anger. “What are you even still doing here? Don’t you have anything better to do than to mock me every five seconds?”

Bakura gestured with the dagger in his hand. “I’m not mocking you! If you’d just stop being stubborn and listen to what I say for once you could’ve saved yourself from a lot of scratches already. You’re going down too fast and when you hit the ground you still have too much momentum and it causes you to fall over. Your wings don’t catch enough resistance in the air to brake because you’re not tilting them enough. Nah wait, you know what, here. Watch and learn.” He sheathed his dagger on his belt and demonstrated the landing, trying to exaggerate the movements a bit more than necessary so Malik could see the difference.

Malik tilted his head and blinked his eyes. “That actually makes sense.” He twitched when Bakura was suddenly next to him, grabbing Malik’s golden wings and stretching them into an uncomfortable position. “Ouch! That hurts!”

Bakura patted his shoulder. “You’ll need to train your muscles then because that’s where you need your wings to be.”

“… did you just steal my necklace?”

“… what if I did?”

“Seriously now? You’re not a crow, you’re a damn magpie.”

Bakura crackled and let the piece of jewellery dangle from his fingers. “Come and get it if you want it back~” He sang.

Malik charged at him, but he dodged easily. They danced around each other for a moment. Malik thought he had finally cornered the other, when Bakura suddenly pushed himself off the ground and spread his wings. Instinctively, Malik followed suit.

“That’s unfair!” He yelled at Bakura. “You know I can’t fly!”

Bakura grinned at him. “Oh really? Then why’re you so high above the ground?”

“I what?” Malik glanced down and saw that Bakura was indeed right. His wings had moved on instinct and kept him in the air. He swayed a bit when he started to move his wings consciously, but he still flew. Excitement washed over him. “Oh my god, Bakura do you see this?!”

“See, wasn’t that difficult now, was it?” Bakura laughed and tossed the necklace back at him. “Next time I’m coming over, I wanna see some proper take-off and touch-downs!” He called before he dived down the ledge and disappeared.

Malik waved him goodbye, still all taken up by euphoria. Until he noticed that he was higher in the air than he had ever been before. And that he needed to get down somehow again. And that he had no idea how.

Bakura’s earlier advise with tilting the wings a bit more to brake worked, but still Malik didn’t have any control over where he landed. He ended up in one of the rose bushes.

\--

Malik noticed how the atmosphere had changed again. Everyone had simply been smiling down on his pathetic attempts to fly, telling him to just leave it be before he hurts himself too much, especially after he’d been covered in scratches from the rose bush one morning. But soon they noticed that Malik’s attempts were not in vain and that he improved fast. Surely, the servants reported back to his father and the next day, guards were coming along with them. Only for Malik’s safety of course. Malik snorted. Keeping Malik in his prison would be a better term to use.

From that point onward, Malik played pretend in front of them. He failed his trainings on purpose, made some scenes out of frustration and then announced he’d given up. It had worked and after a week more, the guards had been called back to the lower levels of the castle again. Meanwhile, Malik focused onto his real training sessions during the late evening or early morning when no one was around. Bakura had come over twice since their first training together and given him other valuable tips. By now, Malik could safely take off and navigate through the air around his quarters and gardens of the tower.

The characteristic sound of heels on stone echoed through the gardens. “I see you’ve gotten rid of your baby-sitters.” Bakura commented on the lack of guards. “Quite foolish of them to leave their heir unprotected. Aren’t they afraid a thief might come and steal him?”

Malik bounced off his current spot and flew the last distance to Bakura making the other back away a little so he wouldn’t get hit by Malik’s wings. “You? Steal me? Ha! I’d like to see that!”

Bakura shrugged and smirked. “Oh, it’s not that difficult, really.” He took a few steps back again and Malik followed.

“Oh, is it now?” Malik mirrored Bakura’s grin. “Tell me, how’d you do it? Pull a sack over my head and kidnap me? Knock me out, tie me up and call your crow buddies to help you carry me away?” The blond knew Bakura was just joking, so why not play along with it.

Bakura laughed and glanced behind himself. “Maybe.” His hand shot forth and grabbed Malik by his collar. He pulled him close to his face and for a second Malik’s heart dropped a beat when he thought Bakura was about to kiss him. “Though maybe I’d also do it like this.” And Bakura pushed him off the ledge that he had ever so carefully guided them to earlier.

Malik wanted to scream, but all air was knocked out of his lungs by the wind whipping around his face. Everything went way too fast. The platform of his quarters got smaller above him and the ground seemed to rush towards him. Desperately Malik tried to catch his breath.

A flash of black appeared next to him and he realized that Bakura had grabbed his hand. He was yelling something at him and it took a second until Malik realized he was screaming at him to open his damn wings. That’s what Malik did. The blond hissed when he was ripped backwards harshly by the sudden brake of the fall. He flapped his wings a few times before he resorted to slow gliding.

“What the fuck was that?!” Malik yelled at the thief.

Bakura just shrugged. “I’m kidnapping you for the evening, thought you might want to see the town before going back?” He dashed past Malik. “Come on and keep up if you can!”

Malik was still panting heavily and trying to recover from the fall. But he saw the town so close, closer than it had ever been. He looked back up the tower in doubt. The tower was all he’d ever known, his whole world. He’d always dreamed of seeing the town, but now that he could, he was afraid to be left there alone. “Hey! Wait up!”

He chased Bakura through some of the more quiet streets. The thief checked over his shoulder to make sure, Malik kept up and when he did, the thief increased his speed and weaved them through the city, getting further and further away from the inner ring that was closest to the palace.

Malik almost flew into some people, but Bakura left him no time to apologize, so he just yelled a ‘sorry’ over his shoulder.

Finally Bakura landed on top of a building next to a big, busy plaza.

Malik came to a halt next to him and doubled over to catch his breath. “Was that… really necessary?” He gasped.

Bakura chuckled and grinned. “Yes, yes it was. I wanted to get away from the palace and the inner ring as fast as possible. It’s easier to blend into the crowd of common folk here than there and you don’t want us to be busted immediately, do you?” He went over to the balustrade and leaned against it.

Malik shook his head and straightened up again. His lungs were burning and his heart was pounding in his chest from the adrenaline. He needed a moment to recover before he dared to look over the edge of the building as well.

The plaza underneath them was filled with all kinds of people who moved from one merchant’s stand to the next. Loud chatter filled the air and the scent of food and spices was overwhelming.

Malik’s eyes grew big as he took everything in. “Can we go down there?”

Amazed by pretty much everything he saw, Malik followed Bakura through the crowd. Malik didn’t have money to pay for anything anyways. It took some time to get through the first row of stands as Malik stopped to marvel at just everything. The food, the textiles, the jewellery, even the way the stands were put up and the people were dressed. Malik looked down his clothing and felt a bit overdressed in comparison to them. Multiple people recognized his fine robes and tried to sell him goods, but Bakura quickly pulled him away from them. When they had seen all, night had already fallen and the merchants began to close their small shops.

Bakura held a stick with grilled potatoes towards him. “Come on, you’ve been eyeing those up the whole evening. Time for some good commoner food.”

“Did you even pay for those?”

Bakura raised an eyebrow. Of course he didn’t and they had to make a run for it as soon as the righteous owner found out and yelled after them. They were chased for a few blocks until Bakura pulled Malik into a side alley where they hid in the shadows of a staircase. Bakura used his wings to cover up both of them, so they’d blend well into the darkness. They snickered as their pursuer flew over them without a clue.

They stayed huddled up there and ate their food. It was cold by now, but still really good.

All around them windows were already shut as people wanted to get their night’s rest. Some voices were heard not far away and Bakura insisted they’d return to the tower now as it could get dangerous for them during the night. Malik almost couldn’t believe why there would be anyone to hurt them when everyone else had been so cheerful and kind, but Bakura reassured him that there were criminals everywhere (including himself) and that they should try to avoid an encounter with them.

Malik trusted Bakura in what he said and so they made their way back. The blond noticed the sudden change in their tactics as Bakura decided they walked instead of flew to lay low and not attract any attention. He explained there were guards positioned everywhere around the inner ring of the city and of course the palace. It had been easy to sneak out during the early evening when many people were still up and about and they could merge with the crowd, but it’d be more difficult to go unnoticed during the night. They’d have to take care if they wanted to sneak back to the tower unnoticed.

Bakura was already familiar with the paths they could take and the dead angles where the guards wouldn’t spot them. Malik couldn’t help but be amazed by the effort Bakura obviously had to put into getting to the tower each time he came over for a visit.

When they reached the center of the inner ring where the palace was placed, Bakura stopped. “We fly from here. Try to stay close and don’t make too much noise. The tower is high, so don’t power yourself out at the beginning.”

The ascent was tedious, but they could land once in a while to wait for the guards to change position. After half an hour they had made it past the most of them. The rest would just be a spiralling flight upwards. Finally they reached the top.

Malik let out a sigh when he realized everything was peaceful up there and no one had noticed his absence. He intended to land next to Bakura. However, the strain in his muscles from the exhausting ascent back to the tower top had been a bit too much and he lost control shortly before he touched ground. He crashed into the other man and knocked both of them into the nearby pond. They broke to the surface and gasped for air.

Bakura spat out some water, his wild mop of hair covering and clinging to his whole face.

Malik laughed and brushed his own hair back. “Oh great, now we’re all wet.”

Bakura wiped the water out of his eyes and chuckled lowly, too. “Well, one thing’s for sure, I can’t fly home like that with the water dragging me down.”

Malik hummed lowly and smirked at him. “Hmmm, gotta take off the wet stuff to dry then.”

\--

“Huuu?” The confused call of a maid came through the open window of Malik’s bedroom. “Master Malik, what’s that?”

Malik almost spat out the tea he was currently drinking in his pavilion when he saw the black feather that the maid was holding towards him through the window.

“I found it between your sheets when cleaning up.” The maid stated. 

Malik exchanged glances with Rishid who just raised an amused eyebrow at him.

“I uh I don’t know.” Malik stuttered. “I uh had my windows open last night. Maybe the wind blew it inside.”

Rishid chuckled. He waved the maid over to them and took the feather from her. “I’ll make sure to dispose of it. I think you have enough work to do.” The maid bowed and retreated back inside.

“The wind, Master Malik? Really?” The older man still looked amused. He turned the feather in his hands. “Quite a peculiar one, don’t you think? Pitch-black vane, light grey afterfeathers and white hollow shaft. I’ve never seen anything like that. It’s not from anyone I know.”

Malik snatched the feather from him and grumbled something inaudible. “Yes. You know the winds up here can get stronger than those on the ground.”

Rishid laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell anyone. Just promise me not to do anything stupid.”

Malik nodded and thanked him silently. He ran his fingers over the feather to smooth it. The blond frowned at his fingers, noticing that the feather had left a slight black trace on them.

Rishid frowned. “It concerns me though that whoever that feather belongs to was able to trespass here so easily.”

\--

Malik had been able to assure Rishid that he was safe up there in his tower and that there was no imminent threat present. However, Rishid insisted on upping the security a bit, making it harder for Bakura to just fly up the tower. Though, that didn’t stop him from doing so multiple times during the next weeks. He had figured out the guards’ routine quite fast and taught Malik how to avoid them when he wanted to escape to town. During their next little trip, Bakura showed Malik the sea. The prince spent most of the night running along the sand and letting the waves wash around his feet, laughing loudly. However, he also learned that the seaside winds could be tricky and multiple times he was sent tumbling through the air in an uncontrolled manner. He was dead tired the next morning when Rishid woke him up, but it had been worth it.

A loud knock on Malik’s window awoke him roughly a few days later. Malik sat up. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and stumbled over to the window. “Bakura, it’s in the middle of the night…”

Quickly Bakura slipped inside the room. “Malik, you need to leave right now. Get whatever you need and then let’s go.”

Confused, Malik followed Bakura as the other already started to rip Malik’s closet open and toss some clothes at him. “What? Why? What happened?”

“So, I was creeping around the palace and I overheard some conversations and-“

Malik’s confusion just increased. “Why were you in the palace in the first place?”

“Doesn’t matter. Shut up and let me finish. I heard some of the servants grass on you. They saw you returning from your last little excursion. Your father knows and he’s NOT happy, alright? Damn.” Bakura brushed his hair back and sighed. “Seriously now, that man is scary and if you don’t want to be imprisoned here forever, you better take your leave right now as long as you are still able to.”

Malik cursed loudly and started to change into the clothes Bakura had thrown at him earlier. “This is bad… this is really bad.” He looked around his room, wondering what he’d need. In the end, he decided on only taking his sword, a small pouch with a shirt to change and some trinkets that could be exchanged for money on one of the markets. As he had only lived up in his tower until now, of course he hadn’t had any need for money and thus owned none.

Both men hurried outside towards the ledge, but Malik hesitated. “I’ll need to inform at least one of my siblings that I’m leaving. I don’t want them to worry.”

Bakura pressed his lips into a thin line as he weighted their options. “If we go down by the West side and leave over the seaside, we can pass by baldy’s windows if that’s the one you mean.”

Thankfully Malik nodded. “Take the lead. I’ll follow.”

\--

Malik could barely bear to look into Rishid’s sad face. “I’m sorry it had to get this far. But me leaving is for the best.”

Rishid nodded slowly, his expression sorrowful. “I’ve always tried to prevent a situation like that. I knew I couldn’t change your father’s orders, but I always tried to protect you. I already guessed that as soon as you knew, you’d stand up against your father. I didn’t want him to forcefully cut your wings and lock you up. It would’ve only made things worse. Sure, a life confined to the tower wasn’t the best choice, but still better than rotting away within a cell. I want you to know that.”

Malik flung himself around the other in a big hug. “I know that, brother. I’ve long stopped being mad at you. Thank you for everything, but I think it’s time I follow my own path. I’ll return, so don’t worry about me.”

The corner of Rishid’s mouth twitched upwards. “Tell the black feather they better take care well of you or otherwise they’re going to have a problem with me.”

Malik blinked his eyes and chuckled. “He will, don’t worry.”

\--

The seaside route that Bakura had chosen was a rough path and Malik was more than glad that he had already gotten to know the winds there before. They kept close to the cliffs for shelter from unwanted view for a few miles before they deemed it save enough to fly over land again.

The landscape had changed already and instead of the many buildings of the city, they were now flying over fields that appeared to be silver in the moon’s light. When Malik was falling further and further back because his wings couldn’t move faster anymore, they found shelter in the hay barn of a farm.

“Don’t you think the owners will be mad when they find us?” Malik asked as he stretched his wings and plopped down on the hay. He’d never flown for so long and simply put he was exhausted.

“We’ll be gone long before they notice we’re here, don’t worry.” Bakura carefully closed the door and made sure no one was around.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“For causing you all this trouble, I mean.” Malik scratched his head. “Because of me you had to flee from the capital. I don’t know what you were doing there, but I guess it was something important since you stayed so long despite the guards wanting to hunt you down.”

Bakura shook his head and plopped into the hay next to him. “Remember when I told you all those made up stories when I was recovering at your place? Not everything was a lie. I’m working together with a group of rebels. You don’t see it in the capital, but the country’s as at war, been at war for over a decade now. The further you go from the capital the more you can see it. And people aren’t happy. We know we cannot change much alone as long as the same people as before are in control.” Anger swung in his voice and the skin on his knuckles turned white as he tightened his fists. “I was sent there to spy on the authorities, send false letters and find allies who could help us. And well, I found you, didn’t I?”

“Me?” Malik frowned. “I don’t know how I could help. You’ve seen my father. As long as he lives, I won’t have any say.” 

Bakura sighed. “But there will come a point where you will be expected to rule. And I can still show you your country and your people if you let me to. People will try to manipulate you and it’ll be hard to make the right choices. Having seen and knowing the truth about your lands will help you. A good ruler should know his people instead of being a mindless chess piece.”

“You know, most of the time you might be an idiot, but sometimes you say really smart stuff.” Malik chuckled. “I’d love you to show me around and make me see. Make me see my country and meet my people. Let me see the good and the bad sides, so I know over what I’ll rule.”

Pleased Bakura nodded. “I’m glad to see you think that way.”

Malik hummed. Actually that had been all he’d ever wanted, travelling the land to see as much as possible of it. He raised his brows in a frown. “There’s one thing I wonder though. Isn’t the emperor supposed to be superior to all four kings? Why’s he just letting all that happen? Surely he wouldn’t be pleased to see his countries at war with each other.” Malik asked, the frown deepening on his face. The four kingdoms were independent nations; however all of them answered to the emperor.

“Pah!” Bakura grimaced. “I’ve had an audience with him a few years back, but it’s no use.”

An audience? Malik was surprised. “You? How do did you of all people get an audience with the emperor himself?”

Bakura waved his hand dismissively. “I had a royal decree from the North, so he had to listen to me.” A bitter expression crossed Bakura’s face. “But like you he was raised in social isolation and infused with the ideologies of the men who pull the strings behind him. I tried to get him to listen and to realize the truth, but it was already too late. He refused to believe anything that went against his advisor’s words and had me removed from the court. He was already too deeply involved in the political conspiracies around him to escape and couldn’t be saved anymore.” Bakura turned to Malik. “But I could save you from the same fate and I’m glad for that. Maybe you can bring a change that I cannot bring alone.”

Malik bumped his shoulder on Bakura’s. “I promise I’ll try my best. So wipe that gloomy expression off your face, we have some governments to usurp.”

Bakura laughed. “That’s the spirit!”

\--

They spent the first few days travelling over the country-side and asked in small villages for shelter during the night. The villagers were kind and fast to share their meals with them. Harvest had been good for them this year and their farms prospered. Malik was happy around them and his spirit high, however his mood dropped when he witnessed a woman getting the news that her husband had fallen at the border. He’d asked Bakura if they could leave, but Bakura said that it was important for him to understand the struggle these people went through even if everything else seemed to be perfect.

They reached the next larger town about a week later. It was dirtier than the city Malik had come to know from his home and the overall tone of the people was rougher, but it wasn’t too bad. They found shelter in an inn that Bakura paid with some gold that he had pick-pocketed on the market place earlier. Malik insisted on trying the beer there. Though, he overestimated his own limits and got a little bit more than drunk. Bakura wasn’t any better. Malik accidentally kicked him out of bed the next morning. The thief was grumpy for the rest of the morning. To make up for it, Malik started to run his hands through the feathers of Bakura’s wings, grooming them in a much similar fashion as his servants had done for him back then. He felt the other tense up underneath his fingers.

“Something wrong? Should I stop?”

Bakura slowly shook his head and let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. His shoulders slouched down as he relaxed again. “No, it’s… nobody’s done that ever since… no never mind, just continue.”

Malik hummed. After a while he poked Bakura’s wing. “You’re growing a new feather there. But it’s white.”

Bakura tried to look over his shoulder and twisted to catch a glimpse of it. “Yeah, they’re always starting off white. It’ll probably be black after the next trip home anyways.”

Malik didn’t know what he meant with that. But he had the feeling Bakura didn’t want to elaborate further on it, so he didn’t pry.

The further they travelled, the less prosperous the country was. People protected their belongings and were less willing to invite them as their guests. Malik asked them what happened and found out that most of their men had been called into the army already years ago. Without enough hands to do the harvest, half of the fields had been neglected and the crops had drowned during various storms.

It got worse and worse the further they went until the people treated all kinds of travellers with hostility. The army had ripped them off their goods to feed their soldiers, leaving them behind with nothing but empty stomachs. The atmosphere was hostile and Malik didn’t meet anyone who didn’t speak ill of the royal family. Some even spat on the ground. It saddened him to think that things had to come this far.

It peaked when they were attacked by some farmers on a field close to the foot of a mountain. Malik and Bakura had been attacked by some robbers already before on their journey and they had successfully thought them off, but this was different. The farmers had recognized Bakura’s distinct looks and demanded their fields stay clear of any villainous crows or else they’d kill him. Bakura had just laughed it off and said that was normal for this part of the country. “We’re close to home after all~” He hummed. Malik couldn’t understand why he was in such a good mood, but maybe he was just happy to be home soon.

It was the first night that they had to camp outside although a town was close by. For the next town, Bakura stayed behind, so Malik could go alone to fill up their supplies. He talked to a few people on the market place and asked them about the rumours he had heard about the crows. The townspeople told that the crows were citizens of the North who lived in the mountains and snuck past the army to raid the settlements close to the borders. Most of the time, they could be recognized by their black wings that did not match their hair colour.

“Why do they do the raids?” Malik asked as he flew next to Bakura along a chain of mountains.

“Because they need to feed themselves and their children, what else?” Bakura retorted back. He flew a turn to the right. “We’re crossing the mountains here. The North is what lies beyond. It’s my homeland.”

As they approached the mountains, the weather got harsher. The wind grew strong and cold. A thin layer of ice covered Malik’s feathers already before they reached the mountain top and the ground below them was covered in snow.

Malik gasped when he saw the lands behind the mountains. He was used to the green forests and golden fields of his homeland. But what lay before him now was a black desert. The mountains now towered behind them like daggers of black obsidian. At the foot of the mountain, barren land with dark soil stretched out until the horizon. Malik gulped hard as he wondered what had happened here.

They set up camp for the night underneath a rocky ledge. Contrary to Malik’s first belief, it wasn’t the rocks or sand that were coloured black, but much more the layer of snow that covered them. As if on cue, more black snowflakes started to fall. Malik caught one in his hand and watched as it melted and left some smears of coal on his skin.

Bakura caught him staring. “On this side of the mountains, the snow is always black.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

They spend the whole next day travelling without meeting a single soul until suddenly buildings appeared in the distance. One huge building was located in the middle. It towered above all others and black smoke was coming out of several long chimneys. Bakura had called it the factory. They entered the village that consisted mostly of poor cottages that were built around the factory. The villagers were thin with hollow eyes. A few scrawny kids crossed the street in front of them and hid behind their mothers. This time, their roles were reversed and the black-winged villagers were giving Malik strange looks instead of Bakura. He instantly remembered Bakura’s words. _I know clipped wings when I see them._

Malik kept close to Bakura as they walked through the streets. “Why are all their feathers cut?” He kept his voice low.

“Prisoners of war. They’re cheap labour for the factory. Everyone above the age of eight gets clipped, so they cannot simply fly away. I’d recommend you not to fly when guards are around or they’ll target you next.”

Malik hugged himself and folded his wings tightly on his back. He almost jumped and startled when one of the smaller kids suddenly came running towards them, loudly exclaiming Bakura’s name.

Bakura’s expression lit up as he picked her up. “Hey there kiddo, long time not seen. Damn, you’ve grown.” He rocked her up and down a bit before he set her down again. “Go tell your mother I need to talk to her.” She squealed before she ran off.

“Her mother’s the matriarch of the town. I know the family well. The father served in the same battalion as my oldest brother.” Bakura explained to Malik as he led him to the biggest hut. Instead of a door, it only had a ragged piece of cloth to cover the entrance.

As soon as they entered a middle aged woman came running up to them. “Ah M’lord, I already wondered when I’d see you again. Almost thought you had bitten in the grass on the other side.” She nodded to Malik. “He a friend or he a hostage? How much we get for him?”

“What?” Malik took a step back. “I’m not a hostage.”

“So you’re a friend, aye? Arg, one more mouth to feed. Sit down, supper is almost done.” She patted his shoulder and Malik couldn’t help but be surprised at her strength. He also couldn’t help but wonder how willing she was to share the soup that was already more water than other ingredients anyways.

The little girl came running up towards them again. “Bakura, Bakura, did you bring something from your travels?”

Her mother glared at her. “Language!”

The girl rolled her eyes. “Did you bring something from your travels, M’LORD.”

Bakura chuckled and searched his bag for a tiny wooden bird. “It’s nothing to eat, but at least you can play with it.”

Malik leaned against the table next to Bakura and raised his brow. “So so, m’lord, hm? I didn’t know you were of higher birth.”

Bakura reclined in his chair. “Third in succession to the throne actually.”

“His brothers died in war, so you’re talking to our king now, young man.” The woman corrected him.

Malik gaped openly at him. “And when did you intend to tell me THAT?”

Bakura crackled. “Our whole government is destroyed and our titles have become meaningless as well. Nowadays, titles are just nasty words, I don’t like them. Besides, it wasn’t my choice, but more like an unfortunate series of events.”

Their host laughed as she set down two mugs of thick beer on the table. “He doesn’t behave like it and he doesn’t look like it, but I’d prefer a king like this who shares the lives of his citizens and who gets his hands dirty to fight for them a dozen times over those that hide behind their pretty palace walls and pretend the world is perfect.”

Malik’s stomach dropped and suddenly he didn’t feel so hungry anyways. He felt bad for having had such a luxurious life for so many years while others had to fight for their lives day for day. The lady was right. A king should stand with his citizens in all situations. “You’re right. I want to help too, with whatever I can.”

“Aye, lad, you’ve got a good spirit.” She shoved the soup over to him. “What you wanna do with him, m’lord?”

Bakura licked some beer foam of his lips. “I’m taking him to see Kul Elna.”

The woman paled. “But isn’t that dangerous? It’s very instable land, you better don’t go to close.”

\--

They had spent the night in the hut and left early in the morning. Bakura wanted to be gone before the guards did their morning patrol. Afterwards they flew over the vast, barren land. Malik’s wings already grew tired and he was about to ask how far they’d still need to go. Then he spotted something at the horizon. Malik squinted his eyes. As they got closer he could recognize some other buildings rising into the air. However, they looked weird and broken.

“What happened here and what is this?” Malik yelled against the wind.

Bakura motioned for him to touch down. He landed on a plateau where they’d have a good overview over the valley. Malik landed next to him and almost bumped into him when the wind pushed him a bit more to the side than he had anticipated.

The city Malik had seen earlier appeared to be more ruins than a real city. The smell of ashes burned in Malik’s nose. “What is this?” He asked again in case Bakura hadn’t heard his question before. Confused he looked to the city that Bakura seemed to be so fixated one.

“What lays before us is Kul Elna, former capital city of the North.” Bakura sighed. “My home, or well, what’s left of it now. It didn’t always look like this, you know. At least it didn’t when I was a child.”

“What happened to turn it into this?”

“War.” Bakura sniffed. “You see, our country was rich in mineral wealth. Wealth that other countries strived to have for themselves. War was waged between the nations. Eventually they attacked and set the capital on fire, not knowing that there were naturally occurring underground gas accumulations all across the whole nation. The fire spread out way too quickly, killing almost the majority of the citizens. And it might not look like it now, but even after a decade it’s still burning inside and it’s still spitting ashes into the air, darkening our skies, polluting our rain and snow, spoiling our soil and colouring our wings in black. Harvests have declined and the surviving families are fighting hard to keep themselves alive somehow. Invading forces come and turn them into slaves and then they wonder when our rebels raid _their_ villages in return.”

“I’m so sorry to hear.” Malik closed the distance between them to pull Bakura into a soothing embrace. He ran his left hand through Bakura’s feathers and wondered how they’d look like in what he assumed would be their natural white colour instead of the carbon tainted black. Maybe a dove hid underneath these layers of ash instead of a crow. “It must be hard for you to come back here. Why’d you insist on bringing me here?”

“The one who started war against this country was your grandfather and your father continued and led the attack. I want the next king to see the truth with his own eyes and turn on a different path than those before him. I want to help my kingdom, but my people are weakened from war and poor harvests. They cannot fight and I cannot influence the weather to bring them better crops. I cannot fight the other nations all by myself, but you, you can change them at their core for a better future for all of us.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
